


Gunshot

by Casual_Scribbles



Series: Adventures in Deviation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Injury, No beta sorry, connor and hank as father and son, gunshot wound, he's fine tho, wow i wrote something that isn't absolute trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casual_Scribbles/pseuds/Casual_Scribbles
Summary: It was supposed to be simple. Arrive. Break up the protest. Go home. But with the anti-android extremists that littered Detroit since humans were allowed back in the city, nothing was ever that easy.In which Connor experiences the pain of being shot for the first time.





	Gunshot

It was supposed to be simple. Arrive. Break up the protest. Go home. But with the anti-android extremists that littered Detroit since humans were allowed back in the city, nothing was ever that easy.

Hank stepped out of the squad car and locked it. He checked the gun settled firmly in the holster on his belt. He hoped he didn't have to use it today. A hand settled on his shoulder.

“Everything is ready, Lieutenant,” Connor said. He looked very serious, even after having ditched the Cyberlife jacket for a custom DPD uniform.

“God, Connor, I told you to stop calling me that.” Hank groaned.

Connor tilted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. It was such a human response, yet the action reminded Hank of Sumo. “What… am I supposed to call you?”

“I don't know--" Hank waved his hand at Connor—“Anything. Literally fucking anything _but_ that.”

Connor's LED blinked yellow. “…Alright.” He said slowly.

Hank nodded and made to step forward, but caught sight of the signs and heard the angry, bitter shouts that rose from the crowd of protesters. “Hey, kid,” He said, facing Connor, “Are you sure you want to be here? For this- I mean. These people… they're going to say some pretty nasty things. If you want to stay back, no one will judge you for it.”

Connor stiffened. He somehow seemed to stand straighter and slouch more at the same time. His arms crossed, then dangled at his sides, then hovered in front of his chest, then fell to his sides again, hands flicking as if shaking off the anti-android slogans being screamed. Finally, he stuffed one hand in a pocket where Hank knew he kept his coin (when asked about this coin, Connor would only shrug and say, “It's a gift from a friend,” or “It helps to keep my stress levels low under pressure,”) while the other arm passed behind his back to clutch the opposite elbow. “I'll be fine… Hank.”

Hank noticed how Connor lingered on the syllables of his name, seeming unsure if that was what he wanted to call Hank. Hank wasn't sure that was when he wanted to be called either, but he would admit that it was better than “Lieutenant”.

“Okay, kid. If you're sure.” The partners then joined the other officers behind a barrier formed by those wielding riot shields. The officers were shouting commands at the group, but the protesters only screamed louder, drowning out the instructions.

Then the protestors at the front of the crowd caught sight of Connor.

“Tin-can!”

“Fuckin' plastic piece of trash!”

“Job-stealer!”

“Fake-ass metal wannabe detective!”

The insults ranged from clever to criminally uncreative, but every one of them cut through Hank like a knife to the chest, despite being aimed at his partner. He heard Connor clear his throat and looked over at the android. Connor was tugging his tie into place, straightening it even though Hank was fairly certain it had never been brushed out of place. He couldn't see Connor's LED from where he was standing, but he was sure it was not blue.

He knocked his shoulder into Connor's as a weak attempt at providing support. He knew how much Connor was struggling with deviation, and hearing this verbal abuse could not have possibly helped Connor in any way.

He returned his focus to the protestors in time for the shouts to turn to roars and he caught the flash of cold metal. Connor gasped beside him. Before he could usher a warning, the gun fired. Panic erupted on both sides of the protest. The officers drew their own firearms and the civilians screamed and shoved each other as they tried to get away from the deadly weapons as quickly as possible.

“Connor, are you-" Hank cut himself off as he noticed the blue blood that had sprayed onto his distastefully patterned shirt. Connor was the only android present with the police. That meant- Hank swore colorfully. He grabbed Connor's arm, shuddering at the pulse of Thirium beneath his fingers, and dragged Connor back behind a wall. He was just thanking whatever deity existed that androids couldn't feel pain when Connor wrenched the shot arm out of Hank's grasp- and _screamed_.

Every instinct that Hank thought he had buried – long buried, four years buried – emerged at once.

Blue-stained tears poured freely over Connor's eyelashes as he clutched the injured arm closer to his chest, still screaming, still sobbing.

“Connor! Connor, what's wrong, son? What's going on?” Connor's LED was flared a violent red and Hank tried to ignore the shouting and snippets of gunfire behind the wall.

Connor shook his head wildly, choking on sobs. “Arm… I don't- I can't- it- it- I- _fire_. It feels-” Connor gasped, digging his fingers into his synthetic skin, sobs choking his words, “It feels like _fire_.” He managed at last.

Hank's eyes widened as he stared at the growing stain of Thirium pulsing from a bullet wound in Connor's right shoulder. “It hurts…” he murmured, at last, hesitant fingers hovering close, but unsure of what to do without causing any more damage. God, he didn't know jack _shit_ about androids. “You're in pain, Connor.

“And-droids a-aren't progra-grammed to f-feel pain,” Connor gasped between sobs.

“You're a _deviant_ , Connor. I don't think programming applies to you anymore.” He looked his partner over and swore. The bleeding wasn't stopping. “Fuck. Connor, this is going to hurt, but I need to check if there's an exit wound.” He reached forward and wrestled Connor's arm away from his chest. Connor’s shriek of pain threatened to unravel Hank, but he brushed his fingers over the back of Connor's shoulder. The plastic was warped but not broken, meaning that the bullet was still _inside_ of Connor, fucking up the mechanics that allowed him to move his right shoulder and ruining God knows what else.

Thirium still pulsed in time with the beat of Connor’s Thirium pump. Hank could almost hear the Thirium pump regulator whirring, struggling to slow the panicked android’s heartbeat. Hank swore colorfully.

“I need to stop the bleeding, Connor.” He said as he shrugged off his coat. “What are your Thirium levels at?” Hank tore a long strip of fabric from his coat.

“82% Thirium.” Connor choked out. Hank wrapped the fabric tight around Connor’s shoulder just above the bullet wound. He yanked on the knot, trying to ignore Connor’s sharp cry.

“What level is critical?” Hank demanded, pressing his wadded up coat against the pulsing wound.

“50%.” Connor gasped. His eyes went wide and he clutched Hank’s forearm, digging his fingers in so hard that Hank thought it might bruise. “I-I’m scared. I don’t wanna die, Hank, I don’t wanna die.”

Hank drew Connor closer to himself. “You’re not gonna die, son. I’ve got you.” Hank twisted to shout over his shoulder. “Officer down! We need medical help!”

He clutched Connor as tightly as Connor held him and prayed to any god that would listen that help would arrive quickly.

Connor’s sobs turned to choked whimpers. His grip on Hank’s arm relaxed ever so slightly. Panic froze Hank’s heart. He looked down at Connor and saw his brown eyes drooping. “No, hey, son. Connor, Connor stay awake.”

“Hurts…” Connor mumbled tearfully. “Not supposed to hurt.”

“Connor, what’s your favorite game to play with Sumo?” Hank asked quickly, running his hand through Connor’s thick brown hair. The ends curled a little around his fingers. He hadn’t noticed that Connor’s hair curled before.

“We play tug-o’-war,” Connor flicked his eyes up to Hank for a moment. “I let Sumo win.”

Hank smiled. Of course he did. Connor adored Sumo.

“What’s your Thirium at now, Connor?” He asked again.

“77%. It’s still going down.” Connor’s words were starting to slur together and his eyes dropped closed.

“No, son. You have to stay awake until help gets here.” He tapped Connor’s cheek gently. Connor’s eyes fluttered but didn’t open. Hank looked around wildly. Had someone called for help?

Chris pushed through the crowd of officers still attempting to calm the rioters and crouched beside Hank. “I called New Jericho. Markus is on his way with Josh, they’ll be here soon.” Chris looked down at Connor, still held firmly in Hank’s arms. “How’s he holding up?”

Hank tried to stop his voice from trembling. “I don’t know. He’s not responding.”

Chris brushed Connor’s hair away from his temple, revealing that the LED still circled in red. “He’s in low power-mode, Hank. He’s not gone.”

Hank only nodded. He was trembling now. He realized he was scared. He couldn’t lose another son. He wouldn’t survive losing another son.

A white van roared into view, a long blue stripe painted along the side of it. _New Jericho_ was written above the stripe alongside a closed fist inside a triangle. The symbol of New Jericho. The van screeched to a halt and Josh jumped out of the back of it, rolling a gurney behind him.

“I’ll take it from here, Hank,” Josh said and lifted Connor onto the gurney.

Markus strode toward Hank and Chris, head held high. He paused only long enough to murmur something to Josh and lay a hand on Connor’s for a moment. He gave a sharp nod and Josh loaded Connor into the van.

“Hank,” he said. Hank rose to meet Markus. He felt Chris rejoin the other officers. “We have a lot of tech at New Jericho. Connor is in good hands.”

Hank trembled, staring over Markus’ shoulder at the back of the van where he could see Josh attaching Connor to a bright blue IV drip. “He said he was scared to die, Markus. Could he die from this?”

Markus reached out a hand and let it rest on Hank’s shoulder. “Hank, has Connor been shot before?” Hank flicked his eyes to Markus’ own and found that he couldn’t look away. Markus' eyes were steady, intent.

“Yes,”

“Has he been shot since he deviated?”

Hank thought for a moment. He didn’t really know. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

“Hank, it’s very likely that this is the first time Connor has been capable of feeling pain when he was shot. He will not die from this. His Thirium levels were still high enough that even if we had arrived twenty minutes later than now, he would have been fine.” Markus took a look over his shoulder and Hank followed his gaze. Josh was giving them a thumbs up and closing the doors. “He was just scared, Hank. He was feeling something new and scary and he didn’t know what it was. He’s fine.”

Markus took his hand away from Hank’s shoulder. “I’ll send you a message when he’s out of low power mode.” And then he was climbing into the front of the van and he was gone.

Hank watched the van disappear down the street and, still trembling, joined his fellow officers in breaking up the riot.

 

With the troublemakers in custody, the less aggressive of the protestors broke up on their own. Hank sat in his swivel chair back at the precinct and let the chair drift back and forth. He stared at the screen of his phone, waiting for a message from Markus.

“’the tin can still bein’ repaired?” Gavin interrupted Hank’s attention, leaning back in his chair to look at Hank. Hank scowled at him.

“I don’t know, Gavin. Go back to work.”

Nines approached Gavin’s desk holding a steaming cup of coffee just as Gavin returned to work muttering “he’s probably just being dramatic” under his breath. Nines promptly dropped the cup of coffee directly into a trash can. Gavin snapped to attention.

“What the fuck, Conan?!”

Hank raised an eyebrow. Hardly anyone used Nines’ assigned name, preferring to call him by his nickname, yet Gavin seemed to used Nines’ name more often than usual.

“I gave you three warnings, Detective. Next time you insult my brother it will not be the coffee that I throw in the trash.”

Hank smirked. Served him right.

His phone chimed and Hank read the message desperately, pausing only to smile at the nickname Connor had programmed for Markus in Hank’s phone.

_Robo-Jesus: Connor’s awake now_

Another message followed it.

_Robo-Jesus: He asked where you were. I told him I sent you back to the precinct. He’s asking me to call you._

Hank unlocked his phone and thumbed in a quick message.

_Hank: Tell him I’m on my way._

Hank pulled on his coat, frowning at the tear, and slipped his phone into the pocket. “Jeffery!” He caught the attention of Captain Fowler and waved him over.

“What is it, Hank?”

“Markus just told me that Connor’s awake and asking for me. I’m headed out to New Jericho.” Hank said, zippering his coat. Connor would scold him if he showed up with his coat un-zippered and Connor needed to focus on his own health rather than Hank's.

Fowler smiled. “I'm amazed. You're actually telling me that you're leaving this time.” He chuckled. “The kid must be rubbing off on you.”

Hank muttered a halfhearted response. Fowler just waved him off. “Go be with your son, Hank. I'm glad he's alright.”

Hank left the bullpen and passed through reception quickly. He climbed into his car. Turning the key in the engine, he drove toward New Jericho.

The old church had been almost completely renovated since the revolution. The once dilapidated walls stood firmly in place, pastel blue paint covering the chipped white coat. Markus stood in the doorway, which had been replaced by reinforced glass doors. He waved to greet Hank.

Hank parked his car near the doors and climbed out to see Markus smiling at him. “Connor's in the infirmary. Follow me.”

Markus strode through the doors into New Jericho. Deviants throughout the church stopped what they were doing to watch him pass, faces glowing with admiration. Markus was god-like among his people. Hank bit back a laugh, remembering Connor handing him his phone with Markus' contact labeled as ‘Robo-Jesus'.

“I believe it is a joke you will appreciate.” He had said with a little half-smile. Hank had laughed harder than he had since Cole.

Connor’s nickname seemed fitting.

The infirmary was settled in the back of the church, farthest away from the front doors. Markus pushed aside a curtain. “We're still working on this section.” He apologized while Hank took in the half-finished infirmary. He pushed aside another curtain to reveal Connor sitting on a cot in a loose graphic T-shirt that read _“If you're happy and you know it, **no you don't** ” _in huge block letters. Hank was amazed that the androids had found a shirt from the twenty-teens, let alone a shirt in good enough of a condition to lend to Connor.

Connor was sitting cross-legged on the cot, drinking a pouch of Thirium like a kid sipping a Capri-Sun. Bandages peeked out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt, and he was definitely favoring his right arm, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes again.

Connor's face lit up when he saw Hank approach. “Hank!” He grinned.

Hank smiled. “Hey, kid. How ‘ya feelin’?” He asked as he lowered himself onto the cot beside Connor. Connor gave a one-armed shrug and winced, the motion having shifted his right shoulder despite his best efforts to keep it still. Hank had to restrain himself from putting a hand on Connor's back, reminding himself that it was possible to hurt him more.

“I'm sore, but it's not as bad as… before.” He said. “That was a very unpleasant experience.”

Hank huffed. “Tell me about it, kid. No one likes getting shot, and the first time is always the worst.”

Connor's eyes widened and the Thirium pouch dropped away from his slackened mouth. “You mean it could happen again?”

Hank looked Connor in the eye. “It's very likely. You're a cop now, kid. There's a lot of danger that comes with the job.”

Connor turned to face Hank more and he could see Connor's LED spinning red, red, red. His paternal instincts reared up again.

“Hey, Connor, it'll be okay. If it does happen, it won't happen very often. I'll keep you safe.” He brushed Connor's hair back the way he would whenever Cole was hurt or scared. “I promise.”

Connor leaned against Hank. “Can we go home?” He asked.

Hank froze, his heart picking up speed. _Can we go home?_ Hank's home. _Connor's home_.

“Yeah, son.” He lifted his head to check with Markus about whether or not he could take Connor home and realized that the deviant leader had slipped out sometime while he and Connor had been talking. He hadn't even noticed. “I'll be right back, son. I'm just gonna go ask Markus if I can take you now, alright?”

Connor nodded and brought the Thirium pouch up to his lips.

Hank hauled himself off of the cot with some difficulty. Markus couldn't have gone far. Probably. The church wasn't that big, was it? He brushed past the curtains and noticed Simon carrying supplies. He was walking with a slight limp.

“Simon!” Hank waved at Simon. Simon turned to him and smiled.

“Hello, Lieutenant!” Simon greeted. “How is Connor doing?”

“Good, Simon. Actually, do you know where Markus is? I want to ask if I can take Connor home now.”

Simon's LED flickered yellow for a moment. “Yes. He's in the office. Back where the confessionals used to be.”

“Thanks, Simon,” Hank said and left Simon to continue doing whatever he was doing. Hank passed through crowds of deviant androids, ignoring the odd stares and murmured questions. He knocked on the door of the office. Markus called him in, voice muffled by the heavy wood door.

Hank pushed the door open and saw Markus sifting through some important-looking documents on an old, chipped desk that looked as if it hadn't seen daylight in years.

“Is everything alright, Hank?” Markus asked, putting down the pen he was holding.

“Yes, yes, sorry. I was just wondering if it would be okay for me to take Connor home.”

“Yes, of course.” Markus nodded with a smile. “I'm glad to hear that he's feeling well enough to leave.”

“I think he's looking for comfort,” Hank said, shrugging.

“Oh?”

“He realized that he'll probably get shot again as an officer and it scared him a bit.”

“Oh no. I think bringing him home will definitely help. Let him know that he can come to New Jericho whenever he'd like and Simon and I can help teach him the ropes of being a deviant.”

“Thanks, Markus.” Hank stepped back, toward the door. “Anything I should do to help Connor heal?”

“No, his self-healing program should take care of the wound. He'll be fine.”

Hank nodded gruffly and turned out of the office. He pushed aside the curtains and stepped up to Connor's cot, smiling at Connor fiddling with his coin again.

“C'mon, son. Let's go home.”


End file.
